book club meeting
by MyVintageLove
Summary: "Hey babe," he simply replies, slowly, carefully. His head is low, looking up at her from behind his eyelashes, and she knows something is wrong.
1. Chapter 1

"Tara, honey, I'm going. Will you be alright on your own?"

She looks up from her notes, scattered around her as she sits on the floor, to smile at her aunt. "Book club meeting?" she asks with a pointed look at the fancy dress and high heels, a smug smile on her lips. The woman only rolls her eyes. "Go on, have fun. I'll be fine."

It's only a matter of minutes before she hears the front door closing and the car pulled out of the driveway. Then the silence. She sighs, going back to her notes - English has never been her thing and she has to work hard if she wants to pass her exams and be done with it. She longs for her Biology classes and how easy the homework and labs are. She also longs for a beer and a night out, for getting drunk and high. But she needs to stay focus if she wants to keep her scholarship.

University sucks. She loves it.

At some point during the evening, she stops to order a pizza and paces up and down the hallway reciting authors and genres and figures of speech. So engrossed in her studies she jumps when someone knocks on the door, heart racing.

She's already fishing a twenty in her pocket when she opens the door, freezes in tracks when she sees who's outside.

"You're not the delivery man."

There's an accusatory tone to her voice that makes Jax look around him, as if doing so would suddenly make the pizza appear in front of her. Then he looks back a her, chewing on his bottom lip - an habit of his, usually when taking a test he hasn't studied for. It's weird. Jackson Teller is always the spitting image of confidence, borderline on cockiness.

"Hey babe," he simply replies, slowly, carefully. His head is low, looking up at her from behind his eyelashes, and she knows something is wrong.

No.

It's his clothes, a grey t-shirt that doesn't feature the Sons' logo, or one of their words. It's his jeans not hanging low on his hips, not showing his boxers. It's the Converses where the white sneakers always are. It's the fact he doesn't wear his cut when the damn think was sewed to his shoulders since his first day prospecting.

And he cut his hair.

He tries to move forwards but she immediately takes a step back, so he stops and nods, still biting on his lip. Something is definitely off with him, and Tara doesn't like it. Doesn't like how she still have that hunch when something is wrong with him, when something is up with the club. It's always the same bloody story and why she got away in the first place. It's so unfair of him to keep going, to pretend they didn't break up two months ago and to act like she can be his bloody anchor just because he shows up with puppy eyes and a sorry pout.

Still, the words are on her tongue before she can stop them.

"What's going on, Jax?"

"I'm out."

She can't help the snicker that escapes her mouth, nor can't she with the "yeah, right."

That's obviously the moment the delivery boy decides to show up, looking puzzled at his customers already waiting outside. He takes Tara's money without a word, leaving as quickly as possible - at least someone knows when he's not welcome. Which isn't Jax's case as he follows her inside, watching her as she puts the pizza in the oven. She turns around to face him, hands on her hips.

"What happened to that 'no, Tara, I can't leave my club' bullshit you gave me?"

She notices his smirk when she tries to imitate his voice, but he grows serious again. His eyes never leave the floor, though, awkwardly standing in the middle of her kitchen with his hands in his pockets.

Who are you and what have you done with Jackson Teller.

She doesn't ask.

"Some Irish chick my old man banged wrote me the other day, sent me a bunch of old letters. Turns out I have a half-sister. Also turns out..." His voice breaks as he looks at her, tears in his eyes. She moves forwards, out of reflexes. "They killed him, Tara. They killed my dad."

Tara doesn't need to ask who 'they' are, almost shudders at how obvious the answer it. She's next to him in an instant, arms around his shoulders as he starts crying in her neck. She holds on tight, caressing his hair. When he raises his head, it's to wipe his nose with the back of his hand and smile sadly at her.

"You didn't retaliate?"

He chuckles, shakes his head. "And turn into him?" There's venom in his words. "I want to kill him. Jesus Christ, I want it more than anything. But I can't do it, I can't do him this pleasure of... of... lowering myself to becoming like him. I'm better than that."

He cups her face with his hands, leans his forehead against hers. They remain in that position for long minutes, her hands on his. "Do you want a 'I told you so'?" He shakes his head. "Then why are you here, Jackson?"

"Because I've been a moron and I'm sorry it took me so long to realise you were right. I'm sorry I didn't follow you when you asked and..."

She tiptoes to kiss him, sweet and warm. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her to him and deepening the kiss, and she realises how much she missed him during those two months, how much she loves him. When she breaks the kiss, it's breathless and smiling, rubbing her nose against his. He's obviously a mess, and it'll take time for him to heal, but she knows she needs to be strong for him, for the both of them. She's up to the challenge.

"Want some pizza?"

They end up sitting on the cold kitchen floor while eating, and he tells her about the letters at first, then about his plans - finding a job in a repair shop, becoming a better mechanic, renting a flat big enough for the both of them. He stole money from the club, he says, and it will be enough for his shabby hotel room until he finds something else. He listens, finally interested, when she talks about her life on campus so she tells him about her classes and her scholarship and how she wants to become a doctor. He kisses her hands softly, almost reverently.

"What's up with the makeover though?"

He shrugs. "Didn't want to look like a thug meeting your family."

She read between the lines; no longer want to look like a Son.

It doesn't take long before they move to her bedroom.

She's the first to wake up in the morning, drawing patterns on his chest until his eyes open and he kisses her good morning. She uses his chest as a pillow, listens to his heartbeat as she keeps brushing her fingers against his skin. It feels so good, especially knowing nobody will walk on them for one club business or another. Her breath catches in her throat at that single though - no more illegal business, no more nights spent at the police station. A normal life with a normal boyfriend. Something she had stopped hoping for years ago.

She knows it's not that simple, knows at least Opie will come to have him change his mind, knows Gemma won't let go of her prince that easily. Just as she knows things are still pretty fucked up between them and they need to talk about it, to really think about the future if they're going to do this together. But not now.

Now she just enjoys the moment, enjoys the fact she can spend time naked in bed with Jax Teller and no one will call her an old lady for that. It feels good.

"Got any classes today?" His voice is sleeping and deep, bringing shudders to her spine. She shakes her head against him, not willing to move quite yet. "Good. Wouldn't want Doctor Knowles to skip classes."

She sits up suddenly, staring at him with wide eyes. "If cutting your hair was all you needed to go by the book, I would have done it long before."

Jax rolls his eyes at her sarcasm, chuckles a bit, grabs her by the shoulders to kiss her. His hands roam on her back, tickling her sides as she straddles him. Her hand is slipping down his chest when the front door slams, startling them both as they stare at the bedroom's door. He sighs.

"I'll grab us something to eat instead."

She ignores his pout as she puts up a t-shirt - his - and underwear - also his.

Her aunt is walking around the kitchen when Tara enters the room, obviously making breakfast. She might hear her, because she speaks up even with her back to Tara. "There's a bike in the driveway, are you..." but her question dies in her throat when she turns around and sees her. Tara has no doubt she looks exactly how she feels - tired and disheveled and wearing a man's clothes. Perhaps even with a hickey, Jax loves those. Still, her aunt only raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

Tara goes for the counter and shrugs as she grabs two apples. "Book club meeting."


	2. Chapter 2

I've been asked to write a sequel so here it is because, apparently, writing cute fics about these two is the only thing keeping me sane after watching the latest episodes.  
So have these two fuckers disgustingly being in love.  
(And I love the idea of them have a girl so... Enjoy the idea of Jax's heart melting at having a daughter)

* * *

"I'm home!"

Tara barely has time to close the door behind her before being welcomed by a "mummy!" and excited footsteps on the floor. She kneels down in time for Thomas to jump in her arms for a hug and a sloppy kiss on her check. Still wearing his pajamas and clutching his teddy bear to his chest, he looks up at her with a crocked smile and giggles when she tousles his hair, following her to the kitchen.

Jax is making breakfast, the smell of pancakes tickling her nose and watering her mouth. Without surprise, she finds her daughter clinging to her father's back like a koala to its tree, arms around his neck and legs around his waist. Jax rolls his eyes when he looks at Tara, but his smile shows that he appreciates every second of it - Johanna has always been her daddy's girl, after all.

"Hi, babe." He softly says as she kisses them both. "How was your night shift?"

She leans against the kitchen counter, looking through the daily mail she picked on her way in. "Exhausting. I can't wait to go to..." She stops, staring at the letter in front of her before giving it to Jax with a sigh. "This one is from Charming."

It happens more often than not, Opie writing to tell them what is going on with the club. Mostly who's dead, because he thinks it's the kind of things Jax would like to know. They never write back, even if he's silent for a day or two after learning the death of one of his old brothers, never give a glimpse of their own lives. Sometimes the letters are different, telling this one married his old lady or that one had a kid. Tara sent a gift for each child Donna gave birth to, keeping her own secret. The last thing they wanted was for the rumor to spread out and for Gemma to turn into an angry possessive grandmother. She had lost that right years ago.

Tara watches as Jax's eyes widen when he reads the letter, Johanna trying to decipher the words above his shoulder. He has a breathless laugh before crumpling the letter and throwing it away.

"He's getting married. Wants me to be his best man."

Tara's eyes widen too, the sting of her high school friend's death still present. Donna was to Opie what she is to Jax, high school sweethearts who saw what the club was capable of yet still loved her man to no end. She wouldn't have thought Opie the kind of guy to remarry after that. And, judging by Jax's reaction, neither would he.

"Who's that Lyla chick anyway?"

* * *

The place hasn't changed one bit since they left twelve years ago, Tara notices as they park the car in front of the clubhouse. She doesn't know what she expected, but a little change was part of the list. But no, same old place, same old bikers. Jax squeezes her hand for a second, and it's enough to give her the courage to face the crowd.

He gets out of the car first, and it's like everybody stops breathing when he pulls his sunglasses off his nose to look around him. Everybody, from the few dudes sitting at the tables by the clubhouse to the mechanics working on cars, stop what they're doing to stare at him, to look at the prince finally coming home.

Tara tells the kids to stay calm as she gets out of the car, folding her arms on its roof to watch. Nobody dares to make the first move, some glancing nervously to Gemma's office on the other side of the yard. She sees someone stand up and walk inside the clubhouse, probably to go and fetch Clay. What happens next, though, is the loudest bear growl she's ever heard, Opie appearing out of the building and almost running towards them to hug his long-lost brother. Jax hugs back with a laugh of his own, each patting the back of the other. When Opie steps back, he gives her a "hi, Tara" to which she responds with a smile and wave, but doesn't move.

It's apparently enough of a signal for everyone else, because the next thing they hear is "Jackie boy!" as Chibs comes to get his hug too, while Tig laughs about the child prodigy finally coming home.

Jax looks properly overwhelmed, smiling nervously at everyone and casting her surprised glances once in a while, not knowing how to react. Perhaps the bitterness will come later, as always with them, but for now they only seem happy to have him back in front of them.

"Wait, you have kids in the car?" Tig stares at the children, then at Tara, then Jax. "Dude, you're a dad?"

Johanna decides it's her cue to get out of the car, eyes widening when she looks at the bikers in front of her, having a high-pitched scream when Tig holds her. Tara rolls her eyes because, for everything she hates about this club, those guys are always freaking adorable softies with kids. Johanna already giggles, happy with all the attention, but still asks to be in Jax's arms, hiding her little face in his neck with false embarrassment. Tara joins them soon, a sleeping Thomas in her arms, and smiles awkwardly at them.

"And here comes the crow thief", Tig says, almost too happy.

All she can do is roll her eyes.

* * *

Lyla is a porn actress, but Lyla is also a genuinely sweet girl. Tara can see why Opie fell for her in the first place. They talk together, Thomas still in Tara's arms, while the guys settle for a beer and bullying Jax. She hears his nervous laugh once in a while, the one he has when he's overcome by the situation, and she hopes it'll stay that way - the last thing she wants is for him to realise how much he's missing out.

She's too busy admiring Lyla's ring to look around her, barely has time to hear the heels before raising her head to see Jax being slapped by his mother. She can't help but gasp, and Gemma looks around her at the sound. Her eyes fall on Johanna, the spitting image of her father, then on Tara. If looks could kill...

"You fucking stupid bitch!"

Tara would get slapped too if it wasn't for Jax grabbing Gemma's wrist. Mother and son stare at each other, anger written all over Jax's face. Tara is taken aback for a second, because it's so not like him to react so violently, so not like the man he grew up to be - this face is everything he was as a teenager.

"Don't touch my wife."

Each word said slowly, carefully, and Gemma takes a step back. Still she points an accusatory finger at Tara, not ready to give up just yet. "I'm not going to let some pussy keep my son away from me. This bitch doesn't..."

He squeezes her wrist a little more, makes her wince. "One, don't talk like that in front of my daughter. Two, Tara had nothing to do with me leaving. The letter Maureen Ashby sent me did the job." He lets go of her, as if too disgusted to even touch her skin. "Understood?"

Fridge horror appears on Gemma's face. She looks ready to slap him again, but thinks against it and goes back to her car with all the dignity and arrogance she has. Jax watches her leave before going to Tara, an arm around her waist and a kiss on her temple. She smiles and leans against him.

"Who's Maureen Ashby?" she hears Tig shout-whisper to the others.

* * *

The wedding is awkward at best, the party happening at the garage with Clay and Gemma obviously missing, but also with two dozen other bikers Tara has never seen before. They welcome Jax like some sort of hero, for reasons she can't understand other that the fact he's JT's son. He bounces Johanna on his knee as he speaks and laughs with them, and Tara finds herself talking with that guy they call Juice. He isn't half bad, more innocent than his so-called brothers, and he laughs when little Thomas wants to stand up on his lap to touch the tattoos on his head. Tara wonders if it's the club's curse, turning decent guys into criminals.

At some point during the night, she puts her children to bed in Jax's old bedroom, surprised to find it just the way he left it years ago. There are still pictures of her sticked to the mirror and Johanna falls asleep holding a cushion that smells like cigarettes and motor oil.

She meets Opie on her way down and he whispers a "you did good with him" that makes her smile.

Jax is more than a little drunk when he makes her sit on his lap, laughing louder at everything everyone says. He lets her play with his hair and kisses her senselessly, ignoring the wolf-whistles around them.

* * *

They stay for another three days, settling in the old bedroom like they own the place. It's weird the first morning, but Tara gets strangely used to it, to how easy it is to slip back in their old life - she hates it. Especially with Gemma watching them like an hawk from her office, never daring to come closer but still here, on the lookout. Clay is nowhere to be seen, and Tara knows it's out of self-preservation more than anything. Jax would never kill anyone, but it's good to let them think otherwise.

The kids get used to the place quickly, running around like animals, wrapping bikers around their little finger. Nobody cares that Jax is no longer the heir of the MC when it comes to treating them like prince and princess. Not that the kids mind, obviously, liking the attention. She can hear them as they're annoying Tig, who enjoys every second of it, as she lies on a bench, head on Jax's lap. He types on his computer, making the best of that relatively quiet afternoon.

"This is nice..." she says lazily, eyes shut.

Jax only chuckles. "Really?"

"It'd be nicer if the harpy didn't watch our every move but, you know..."

He chuckles again, a little more heartily, knows exactly what she means. Brotherhood and easy days and going on a ride whenever they feel like it. This is how the club should feel like, this is how things should be - how things will never be.

Opie sits in front of Jax, three bottles of beer in his hands. "I still can't believe you're a writer, bro."

Not looking away from the screen, Jax gives the middle finger at the mocking tone in Opie's voice. "My old man was a writer too."

"Yeah I'm sure he would have loved to know you're following in his footsteps."

Tara sits up in a jolt, feels Jax's thigh - and so his whole body - tense under her fingers, jaw locked. Here it is. He nods at Opie, though, ready to take everything thrown at him.

"You don't write, you don't call, I have to wait ten fucking years to know you're married and a dad and living like those upper class fuckers you beat the shit out of during recess. What happened to the guy who wanted me as his VP? When did running away become a solution?"

She's glad he's not putting the blame on her, something anybody else would have done. But there's anger and bitterness in Opie's voice, which makes Tara squeeze Jax's thigh before standing up and leaving the two of them to their business. She knows when she's not welcomed in a conversation.

Thomas shows her the ladybug Tig and he found on a bike minutes ago, and she pretends to be interesting when all she can hear is Jax trying not to shout. "Well, you should have left with Donna then!" he says, so loudly everyone starts to watch in their direction, especially since it's followed only seconds later by a "I wouldn't rat you out to _Gemma_" from Opie. It leaves no doubt to the reason of their argument, until Jax stands up with a "fuck you". He tries to go for the bikes until he remembers his isn't here, and gets in the car instead, slams the door, driving away as fast as possible.

* * *

She finds him sitting on the ground with his back to Thomas' grave, smoking and muttering to himself. No, not to himself, to his brother, sharing secrets and stories nobody's supposed to hear. He sees her coming, stays silent as she kisses her fingers before pressing them to the cold granite.

Cemeteries have always creeped her out, memories of her mother's death following her still, but Jax finds them soothing in a way she doesn't understand and always seeks solace next to his father and brother - no wonder he named his children after them. He leans his head against the grave, eyes close, and sighs as she sits between his legs, back to his chest. He wraps his arms around her waist and they stay like that, in silence, for long minutes.

"The kids..."

"They went for ice creams with Piney."

He nods and kisses her neck. "Let's go home, babe."

* * *

He lets the travel bag falls at his feet before jumping face first in the bed, and sighs soundly in the pillow. She laughs and rolls her eyes at his childish behaviour but doesn't comment.

"It's so good to be home."

His voice is deadened by the pillow but still comes as happy and relieved. She lies down next to him on the bed and stifles another laugh as he buries his nose between her breasts, her fingers playing with his hair.

"Do you regret it?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "Do I regret not being a criminal dealing guns and killing people on a daily basis?"

"Said like that..." He chuckles. "No, I mean. The brotherhood, the freedom..."

"No." His voice is certain, his tone curt, like he's hurt she could think otherwise. "I've got you and the kids, that's more than enough."

There's a smile creeping on her lips, yet she lets the words sink in the silence of their bedroom.

"He was right."

Jax doesn't asks who she's talking about, only sighs, and his hot breath tinkles her skin.

"I know."

"You should call him."

"I know..."

"You..." He puts a hand on her mouth without even moving his head, which makes her groan a bit. She licks his palm, laughs at the disgusted sound he gives her when moving his hand and wiping it against her jeans.

"You're such a child," he says, and she only giggles as a reply. The real children are in their rooms, unpacking and playing like children ought to do at that age. She can hear Johanna practicing her scales, eager to play the piano after days away from it, and Tommy running around pretending to be God knows which superhero. The house is full of mundane little noises and... yes, it's good to be home.


End file.
